Can't Go Back
by Kisuru-chan
Summary: Protecting her friends did not mean equal pay off. Kurumi would never wish the transformation into a zombie onto her worst enemy.


**A/N** : Written as a gift for The Darkest Night 2016 exchange for rubylily.

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Acutely, Kurumi was aware of hands around her wrists, pinning her down to the bed. Those petite hands were usually calm and strict when she was pressed to be—exactly like at a crucial moment like this. She could hear Miki's voice rise in pitch as she wrangled with the gripping fear and disbelief, cooing false, awkward words of promise she and Kurumi knew would never pass. Yuuri had not been able to handle this, and Kurumi could hear soft sobs from the other side of the room. Miki had been the only one with half a stomach left to attend to her, but she would have to move away soon—she could barely think.

After being bitten by the zombie, Kurumi would die. She, beyond hope of an elusive antidote, had accepted this.

"There's nothing we can do at all!?" Miki asked. Kurumi could imagine her wild, painstricken eyes. "Are we supposed to—"

"She said we shouldn't hesitate if this happened," Yuuri replied stiffly, her voice drowned out by the pulse in Kurumi's ears.

Neither Miki nor Yuuri wanted to kill her. She had known they wouldn't right away, but it was a bad decision if she… she…

Screams clogged up her throat. The soreness was unbearable. The barricade that had been crashed in had emitted the zombie that had done her in. Kurumi could no longer expel from her body the lethal virus injected into the core of her tissues, the agonizing shock of it circulating in her blood and callously clawing through the surface of her skin. Along with her body numb and slow, this was the kiss of death for a human.

At first, the pain had been minimal. She had been able to stand and push back each and every wave of clean-cut pain. Because the thought kept swirling in Kurumi's head; she had to live. Living meant another day. Living meant semi-normalcy in a classroom with tattered books and crinkled, month old candy wrappers courtesy of the school's store far beyond the barricade. She had to help them those days last.

Because if she died in this disgraceful way… yes, none of the other girls would live. She was their lifeline. And without her, the last survivors as she knew them would perish to fate.

Kurumi had failed for herself, her friends, and the dawdling number of survivors still remaining within the city's limits. She had been the only one able to fight. Failing was not an option for survival in the apocalypse. Feelings should mean nothing. And her friends worrying about her she realize that, too.

 _I'm burning up. It feels like I have a full body fever…_

Reddened skin chafed against the bedsheet. The bite and burn of heat scorched at her skin. She sweat, the perspiration sticky and growing hotter and hotter the faster she took in air.

Kurumi groaned. She wanted to raise her hand to her forehead, but she had already forced them to tie her down to the bed. She still scratched at the metal bars under her. Her nails dug into her skin, and she knew she had drawn blood—she could smell the aroma drift under the covers now, the intoxicating essence of life she craved and hated herself for wanting.

Now, she understood the weird aura the zombies had. She had never really seen it, but she had felt it every time she had leapt in for a kill. The moment the blood splattered around her and flesh brushed her skin after she had sunk the shovel into the zombie's chest, she had always just _sensed_ it. At those times she had imagined a prominent purplish hue. That, to Kurumi, was the mark of decaying flesh rather than deoxygenated skin.

Miki's hand came too close for comfort. It brushed her hair. She must not have paid attention. Even still, she was too hesitant to leave her, and Kurumi wanted to yell at her about how ridiculous that was. But, now intrigued and captivated by the scent of her own blood, she could barely contain herself from needing a simple taste. Kurumi's mouth salivated. She could hear the fresh blood pound under Miki's thin skin and _aren't you incredibly thirsty._

Kurumi lunged forward. She went as far she could to reach it, internally pulling back. Miki's panicked look swam into focus at the right moment to snap her out of her thoughts. She missed. Quickly, she turned her and head smothered her face in her pillow and bit into it; she could hear the soft linen burst out, the fluffy feathers inside yanked out and trapped in her teeth.

The blanket was pulled over her head. She could hear the loud scuffle of Miki's feet as she skidded back on the floor. The conversation paused. Then, the voices began again, voices she was strongly impelled to follow and— No, she did not care to understand but know that they were _safe_ and _away_ from her. If she could have that in her last few minutes, she could find a half resemblance of peace in her new cocoon of darkness.

How comforting it was to think darkness would envelope her whole. She would feel nothing, see nothing, know nothing.

 _Didn't you learn anything?_ Kurumi laughed mirthlessly to herself. Miki would have to learn to be stronger and not trust so easily if she wanted to lead the group from now on. _No, you weren't here when Megu-nee sacrificed herself, were you?_

Even Megu-nee had experienced this hell for them and it had been the worst choice and the most heroic. But now, Kurumi could not even tell if anything was worth the price of this, and she wondered whether if Megu-nee had hated herself before she had _let her students see it._ The shield of Megu-nee's protection had crumbled. It was her teacher's shame to burden into the depths of sacrifice. Yes, that kind of shame was only shared by her and Megu-nee. And that failure had changed their course, or the moment they had become adults _._

Kurumi had never really been an adult. She was a teenager, but she had mentally matured beyond adulthood months ago.

Flexing her fingers, she scratched at her skin. Kurumi meant it as her simply holding onto herself just for a place to put her hands, but she continued, scratching at her skin and causing a scar of red to blemish on the back of her hand. She screeched, throat raw and hoarse. This time her screams were real out of anger and frustration. She wanted to feel something, fan off the heat and peel at her skin until she could force her nerves into responding to basic feeling and emotion again.

 _I can't_ _think. When I feel, it's like dipping my hand in a pool. I can't reach anything even though it's right there._ Kurumi could see the darkness in front of her, a long winding road behind her eyelids. She reached out and felt nothing solid, her fingers now tearing what edge of the blanket she managed to snag above her head. _No wonder they lose their minds when they're changed into zombies. Megu-nee wouldn't respond to me… she didn't want to know I'd feel this way if she caught me._

Kurumi breathed heavily. She stared at the light through the thin blanket. Blood still permeated the air around her, and she desperately wanted one droplet of it on her tongue. Just one. But she feared biting her tongue to calm herself. She squirmed, heartbeat frenzied and purple pigtails frazzled in a lopsided mess as she tried to focus on living sounds of her friends.  
 _  
I know what you're going to do. You're both going to try to save me or wait until the last minute to do it._ Kurumi could even feel touched by their kindness, and kindness burned her worse than the flames of pain on her arms and legs. _I told you, kill me. It is better that way. Hesitating will get you killed. And if we're right, and if we have some resemblance of our human thoughts after we change…_ _Don't make me hurt either of you. Please… don't… Hurting you would make me something worse than a zombie…_

Tears sprung to her eyes. If she had to watch through the window of her eyes and only see what her zombie self was doing. Kurumi would never be able to handle that. The tears, hot and prickly, fell down her cheeks and drained into her mouth. She choked, and screamed, and hoped for a miracle.

Once, her life had been beautiful and full of cherished life. But now she spent. She was the white dwarf star ready to explode in a canvas of pitch black. Her life would be brief. No one in the world would hear her whimper in the vast universe except for two people she really wanted only have happy memories.


End file.
